I have bemoaned that KRVS, the local NPR station, does not carry many of my favorite programs. However, I recently discovered that this is for good reason. Lafayette is in broadcast range of the Baton Rouge NPR station. Oh frabjous day! Calloo! Callay! Once again, I can listen to Car Talk, Talk Of The Nation, Only A Game, and the assorted other programs that keep me informed and able to effectively gripe about how people suck. I can spend a leisurely Saturday morning without listening to several consecutive hours of zydeco music.
Only A Game might seem an odd entry on a list of my favorite programs. I am, by no means, a sports fan. I regard sports as exceedingly dull to watch. Playing is fun, but watching is dull, dull, dull. So why do I like Only A Game? Well, because it takes the attitude that a sport is, essentially, only a game. Laced with a quirky humor, the commentary and analysis tend to focus on the human elements. Besides, what other sports program is going to feature stories on belt sander racing or underwater hockey?
In defense of KRVS, I will add that I have discovered several music programs which I rather like and have not heard previously. Shickeley Mix is one of these, featuring Peter Shickeley of PDQ Bach fame. Of course, I’m probably butchering the spelling of his name, but I’m sure he would do equal injustice to mine if he had the slightest idea who I was. In any case, Shickeley Mix is an excellent show for musical eclectica with a knowledgeable viewpoint. While the various subjects of his show tend to revolve on classical music, he will reach far afield in the use of examples. In a discussion of the “fade out” studio technique for ending a piece of music, he observed out that it can be used artfully instead of as a cop-out. To illustrate the point, he played three very different pieces, including “Dancing In The Streets.” Naturally, Schickeley’s own dry wit adds immeasurably to the show’s appeal. I recommend it highly.
Another recent favorite is From The Top, which showcases young classical musicians. Aside from the music, I particularly enjoy the interviews and commentary, which are witty and warm, qualities which I highly prize even if I do not see fit to practice them myself. Taped live in front of a sizable studio audience, each show features several young performers who are invariably amusing, earnest, and gifted. One recent show had a young pianist performing a bluesy jazz number of his own composition, which was actually pretty damned good. Another featured a young lady who played tuba and who told a story about auditioning with “Flight Of The Bumblebee” while wearing a bee suit. Of course, she wore that outfit and played that number over the closing credits of that show.
While listening to the impressive tuba solo, I remarked to Amy that the player must surely have a very, very happy boyfriend.
Another edition of From The Top was more bittersweet, in which they revisited a young musician in his first year of college. He’d previously been on the show several months earlier and demonstrated himself to be an extremely gifted oboist. In the time since his appearance, he’d been granted a full scholarship for oboe (at UC Berkeley, if I recall correctly). He had also suffered a household accident and lost part of his left hand. The oboe, some will recall, is a woodwind instrument requiring the full use of both hands. The young man, as a result, would never be able to play the oboe again.
In the revisitation, the young man had managed to retain or recover most of his good humor. He explained that he had recently, at his music coach’s urging, begun learning the French horn. He was finding purpose in the challenge, it seemed. Encouragingly, the University was keeping him on full scholarship, simply switching him from oboe to French horn.
And so From The Top is another show I recommend. Unfortunately, I don’t really have any useful way to segue from the heartwarming story of a guy who lost fingers. You’ll just have to deal with it.
The cats, Samuel and Aelfgifu, have been pushing the known boundaries of cuteness in recent weeks. Samuel, at three years of age, seems to be undergoing a second kittenhood and is often surprised to find himself playing with string toys. He has a deep, muscular purr, but his meow is more of an odd, truncated squeak. He’s still very shy, of course, but he’s gotten trusting enough to let me pet him. He especially loves to be brushed. Certainly a far cry from his early days with us, when he would run and hide from the occurrence of eye contact.
Aelfgifu, on the other hand, is recovering from being recently spayed. Her irrepressible natural cuteness has throttled back slightly, thankfully, allowing us to get a little more sleep at night. She also looks slightly ridiculous as a result of having a shaved belly. It sort of looks like she’s trying to do the whole bare midriff thing. Okay, she actually look very ridiculous, but we’re trying to avoid damaging her self-esteem. We’ll wait until she’s a full adult before we do that.
The bird, of course, still hates me. Over the holidays, the bird briefly found himself in the mighty jaws of a dachshund. He sustained some small injuries, from which he’s recovered well, but I’m sure he blames me for the whole thing. He stares at me from his perch and grinds his beak. Skrinch . . . skrinch . . . skrinch . . . . He also glares at me and then turns to viciously peck at a dangling bell. “Yeah, buddy, this is your skull right here, and I’m punching it like a cheap toy! Punk!”
I have perhaps another ten years of this to look forward to.
The fish, at least, remain calm. Shemp, the portly and ever hungry goldfish, has provided the supreme moment of pet cuteness in recent memory. He’s in the habit of sucking at the top of the tank whenever he sees us. When he doesn’t see us, he’s usually sucking stuff off the bottom of the tank, occasionally choking on a pebble before he has the presence of mind to spit it back. Shemp makes catfish look finicky by comparison. Aelfgifu will occasionally climb up to the tank at bat at the fish through the glass, so at one point Amy held her up so she could see the surface of the water. The kitten craned her head down to the surface, at which point Shemp came up and sucked on her nose. Aelfgifu freaked out. Clearly, the kitten has not been paying attention, or she would have expected this.
[...] lastly, Day 155 talks about the NPR station in Baton Rouge and, of course, the adorability of our pets. [...]